


Of Angrec and Wolfbane

by TopHatCat



Category: Kuroshitsuji : The Most Beautiful DEATH in the World - Iwasaki/Mori/Mari, Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternative Universe - Kingdom, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Grelliam, King - Freeform, Knight, M/M, Queen - Freeform, Slingphries, Will/Alan, but not really, squire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 02:07:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19285927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TopHatCat/pseuds/TopHatCat
Summary: Alan's role is to be Will's queen, a title he should not question or dispute, and yet his heart says otherwise.  Eric is Will's faithful knight, meant to be loyal to the end, and yet he cannot help but bend that trust, especially when it comes to Alan.Flowers: Angrec: Royalty - Wolfbane: Chivalry, KnightDisclaimer: This fic is not finished. I'm uploading what I have per request of some dear readers.  Will it ever be completed? Perhaps. For now, I hope you can enjoy what I have to offer here.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story features some of my OCs. If you've read Unmei you'll probably know them, but otherwise just dismiss them as random characters to fill roles :)

Alan looked in the mirror, absentmindedly smoothing the front of his wedding gown.  Tradition had stated that the Queen must wear a gown, and so Alan had agreed without arguing.  After all, he was not in charge, Will was.  His newly wed husband.  A single tear fell from the brunette’s eyelash and he looked away from his reflection.  He knew it had to be done; the king must take a queen or forfeit the throne.  It was an old rule, from when birthing an heir still mattered.  Alan could do no such thing, but the title of Queen was a must for the royal documents.  Will had chosen Alan from the house of a lord near the castle, as he had some noble blood in his veins, though he was technically a bastard son, his mother unknown.  That fact was not open to the public, however.  Will had needed a queen in a short time and Alan’s father had willingly given up his son, greedily thinking of the benefits of having his child marry the king.

There came a knock on the door and Alan quickly wiped his eyes.

“Come in,” he called, and Will entered.

“Your majesty,” he said, dipping his head.  He heart was beating.  He knew what wedding nights generally entailed, and he was almost shaking from apprehension.

“We’re wedded now,” Will said, his tone cold as usual.  “But I do not see any need for us to indulge in the pleasures partners usually do on their wedding night.”

“As you wish,” Alan whispered, relieved and heartbroken at the same time.  Lovers should hold each other after the wedding… A wedding should be a bonding out of love, not politics.  Will seemed to sense his husband’s distress and stepped closer, taking the smaller man’s hand.

“Do not fret,” he said, and his voice was softer.  “This life is not so bad.”

“Forgive me for crying,” Alan answered, tears on his cheeks. “It is all so… new.”

“Rest,” Will said, moving back.  “Your training for your role as queen begins tomorrow.”  The king moved to the door and when it closed behind him, Alan slumped to the floor, sobbing into his gloved hands.

I _IIIIII_ I

Alan walked through the halls of the castle, heading for the chapel.  He needed a quiet place to think, and the dim, calm church always calmed him down.

Will was busy working as usual.  There was very little time for them to be together, and Alan wondered if their relationship would change from the cold formality if they had a chance to get to know each other.  Almost six months as queen and he still barely knew the king any better than when he was a peasant in the streets.

With a sigh, he pushed open one of the heavy chapel doors and slipped inside.  The giant room was empty, but the candles were lit, and Alan walked past the shadowy benches to the very first pew.  Sinking onto the wood, he closed his eyes and tried to relax.

He had just managed to forget he was queen when a voice broke into his thoughts.

“Ma’am?  Morning mass is going to start soon and I have to dust the pews…”

Alan opened his eyes, looking up at the young man who stood over him.  As he did, the man gasped a stepped back.

“Your majesty! Forgive me! I didn’t know it was you!”

Alan stood.  He didn’t recognize the man, and figured he must be new. “It’s alright,” he said with a smile. “What’s your name?”

“Thom,” came the answer. “Thom Danys. Please do forgive me, your highness, but your dress confused me…”

Alan glanced down at the deep crimson dress he was wearing. “Oh… yes.  Will thinks that the public wants a queen in a gown, even if I am a man…”  Touching the heavy dark fabric, Alan bit his lip. For the public, for the other kingdoms, for the nobles and counselors… Everything was for someone else and little was for Will and nothing was for Alan.

“Well, like to sit here, that’s fine with me,” Thom said, twirling the rag in his hand.  “It’s a nice place to sit and think in peace if you need that.”

“It is, isn’t it,” Alan answered, and felt tears pricking his eyes. Thom apparently heard the wobble in his voice, for he looked at him in concern.

“Are you alright, your majesty?”

Alan couldn’t help himself at that.  He collapsed sobbing back to the bench, hands over his face.

“Whoa,” Thom said, quickly sitting beside him, “Should I get someone?”

“No, no,” Alan said, trying to stem the flow of tears, “I’m okay.”

“Here,” Thom offered, holding out the rag. “It’s clean.  I haven’t dusted with it.”

Alan took the cloth gratefully, wiping his face. “I’m sorry,” he said in a shaky tone, “But I think you’re the first person who asked me how I feel.”

“You deserve better treatment than that,” Thom said with a frown, and Alan smiled.  He liked that Thom wasn’t aloof, like the nobles, nor was he distant, like the servants. He felt like a real person, like one of his old acquaintances in the town outside the castle walls.

“I have to be perfect,” he said. “I am the queen.”

“Everyone needs a break and some caring for,” Thom said, then ducked his head. “If I may say so, your majesty.”

“Just call me Alan,” the man said.  “Please.”  Brushing the last tears from his eyes, he stood. “I’d better let you get on with your dusting.  Oh…” he looked down at the rag in his hand and Thom chuckled.

“Forget it.  I can get another. Keep it if you want.” He bowed. “I’m sorry I cannot grace you with a better gift.”

Alan laughed, something he hadn’t done in months. “I take with great pleasure,” he said, moving toward the door. “Thank you, Thom.”

“Stop by anytime, Alan!” Thom said with a wave.  “I’ll be here!”

Alan waved back and left the chapel, feeling, for the first time in a long time, a sense of true happiness.

I _IIIIII_ I

It was a sunny afternoon when Alan was walking past the throne room.  Hearing voices from inside, he stepped inside.  There was no one but Will and the entertainment advisor, who were talking.

“What is happening?” he asked, and Will nodded to the guards at the door, who began ushering people in.

“We need a Court Jester,” the king said. “Charles is going to choose a new one.”

“Oh, I should like to help,” Alan said, and Will frowned slightly.

“Many of these people will no doubt be foolish and dirty rogues.  They are not worthy of your presence.”

Alan drew himself up a bit. “I am a rogue of sorts too,” he said. “I want to stay.”

Will looked like he might protest, but then nodded. “I’ll leave you then.” Then he was gone.  Alan turned back to Charles, who was having the guards line the entertainers up against the walls they may present their acts one at a time.  He looked to Alan.

“If you would like to sit in your throne, I will have them do their acts before you, your highness.”

Alan nodded and sat down in the wooden chair.  Charles stood beside him and called the first act forward.

Some of them were good, others awful, but Alan applauded each and every one, seeing how hard they worked to do their acts.  Soon they had gone through most of the line and still found none Charles thought were worthy, though Alan had thought several were just fine.

Now an orange haired woman stepped up, dressed in a patchwork outfit and wearing bells in her hair.

“Your highness,” she said, kissing Alan’s hand. When she drew back, there was a tiny frog sitting on Alan’s fingers.

“Now, see here!” Charles said, appalled, but Alan waved him away, cupping the tiny animal in his palm.

“No, please, do your act.”

The woman grinned and stepped back and in moments had Alan gasping for laughter at her antics, tricks with several more of the small frogs, and most of all, the amusing stories she told.

“Oh, you must stay with us!” Alan laughed, trying to calm himself when she finished. “What is your name?”

“Shelia, your highness,” the woman said with a bow. “And it would be a pleasure to make you laugh again.”

“Oh…” Charles hesitated, but then nodded. “Very well.  But the frogs will have to go.”

“They will stay,” Alan countered, rising and returning the amphibian in his hand to Shelia, who set it on her head.  “They are darling.  We have found our performer, Charles.  Welcome to the castle, Shelia.”

I _IIIIII_ I

“Will, what’s going on?”

The men at the meeting table looked up when the queen entered, a deep frown on his face.  Will straightened from the map that lay spread across the surface before them.

“We are having a war meeting,” he answered.  “No place for you to be.”

“But there is no war,” Alan said, stepping up to the table.  “What are you planning?”

The other men around the table, which included the head counselor, several of his associates, and a few esteemed knights, glanced at each other.  Will quickly moved to Alan’s side.

“It is our business,” he said quietly. “Now please leave.”

“You don’t think I am as intelligent as you are,” Alan realized, appalled. “Because I hold the title of Queen I am unfit to be at your war meetings!”

Will’s cool demeanor was icy now, and his fingers dug almost painfully into Alan’s arm.  “You are being inappropriate,” he hissed, but Alan wouldn’t have it.

“I am as much a leader of this kingdom as you are!” he said, breaking away. “Your poverty levels have dropped since I came here, and you cannot deny it!”

“We’re done talking,” Will snapped. “Eric, escort the queen out and make sure he stays out!”

Alan tried to step back, but the tall sexy and insanely attractive knight took his arm, leading him more than a bit forcefully toward the door.

“Will!” he called, but the king gave no response and Alan was hustled out.  As the door closed, Alan tried to break free.  “Alright, I am out!”

“But you will just go right back in, your highness,” Eric replied, still moving and forcing Alan to hurry along too.  “We’re going to take a walk to cool you down.”

He couldn’t get free of Eric’s tight grasp, and the knight was far too strong to fight, so Alan had little choice as he was escorted down a flight of steps to the garden.  Once amongst the trees and flowers, Eric released the man and Alan jerked away, rubbing his arm.

“Forgive me,” the knight said with a bow. “But the king said you were to stay out.  With a spirit like yours, I knew it wouldn’t be easy.”

Alan eyed him.  He couldn’t tell if the knight was being rude or not.  His face seemed respectful, but Alan didn’t know him very well. In any case, he was right-he wouldn’t be allowed back into the room.

“Why were you having a war meeting when there is no war?” he asked.

Eric looked at him slyly.  “Why do you think?”

Alan sat on a bench and thought for a moment. “Because you think there may be one approaching. Something has given you reason to be wary.”

Eric nodded. “That’s right.  We’ve gotten wind of a traitor, and we’re preparing for the worst.”

“I do not see why I cannot be a part of it!” Alan said, letting out a breath.  He glared at the grass for a moment, and then turned his gaze back to Eric.  “But you’re telling me what I want to know.  Why?”

The knight drew in a breath, and stepped over to a rosebush.  Touching a delicate flower with one gloved hand, he said, “You think roses are beautiful, right?”

Alan nodded, wondering why the knight was talking about this. “Of course.  They are lovely.”

Eric tilted the flower so the stem was exposed.  Thorns jutted from the green branch, sharp and dangerous.  “They have a secret.  They’re not all beauty and dainty petals. They have a strong side, a powerful side that few even think about.”

Alan stood, going to stand beside the knight.  He touched one of the thorns gently, gasping when a drop of blood appeared on his fingertip.  First considering at the crimson drop, he then turned to look at Eric.

“You are not like them.”

“I pray I can be what my queen needs me to be,” the knight said, dropping to one knee and taking Alan’s hand. “I am at your service, wholly and forever.”

Alan didn’t know what to say.  He was about to speak, to express his thanks, when a sound cut through the calm of the garden.

“Sir Eric!  Sir Eric!”

Both queen and knight glanced up at the voice, and Alan saw a blond head bobbing over the hedge.  Eric rose with a sigh.

“My squire, Ronald. Most likely the king sent him to bring me back.”  The knight bent, kissing Alan’s hand before releasing it.  “Good day, your highness.”  Eric turned, but before he vanished under the arch of vines, he paused and looked back.  “Your highness, a rose you may be, but forgive me for saying that red is not your color.”

Then he was gone and Alan was left alone.  He felt a bit dazed by what had just happened. Had Will’s most loyal man just declare himself Alan’s knight as well?  Looking down, he realized Eric had held his cut hand, and the blood was smeared across his palm.  Wiping the liquid on his dress, he watched at it blended perfectly with the crimson shade of the cloth.


	2. Chapter 2

It was the night of the ball.  At last it had come, the time of year when the neighboring kingdoms got together for the annual celebration.  It was Will’s turn to host, and it showed. He was even busier than usual, and Alan didn’t see him for a week straight, though they hadn’t been speaking much since the war meeting incident.

Alan found himself not minding the absence of his husband.  He spent far more time with Thom in the chapel, or Eric in the garden. Sometimes Eric’s squire joined them, and Alan found Ronald to be a fun-loving boisterous young man, enjoyable to be around.  Will deemed him annoying, but Alan always liked spending time with the squire.

Both Eric and Ronald were extra busy this week too, however, dealing with fortifying the castles defenses.  The traitor issue was still unsolved, and with more guests arriving each day, Eric’s job increased tenfold.  Alan found himself pining for the knight’s company, and distracted himself by immersing his days in preparing for the party.  Despite Will’s insistence that he should not bow down to a servant’s level, Alan loved helping with the decorations, and it took a lot to decorate such a large castle.  Eventually though, everything was in its place, from the tapestries to the bedsheets, and the guests began pouring in.

There were nobles of every sort, most of which Alan had learned by name while training to be queen.  They were generally a stuffy, pompous lot, and Alan didn’t give them much of his time.  But on the third day of the arrivals, Will called him down to a private room.

Eric was outside the door, and Alan paused beside him.

“How have you been, Sir Knight?” he asked, wishing he could wrap his arms around the man.

“Too busy,” Eric replied, taking Alan’s hand, as he always did, and kissing it.  “They’re waiting for you inside.”

“Who is it?”

“Relatives,” Eric answered. “The princess from the east, the prince from the south, and the king from the north.”  At the last, Eric’s eyes darkened. “Watch out for him.”

“Why?” Alan asked trying to quell his alarm, but the voices had quieted inside, indicating they knew he was there, so he turned the knob and entered.

He recognized the princess and prince at once.  Young Princess Samantha Danys of the east, a distance relative of Will’s on his mother’s side.  Alan had found her to be gay and charming at their last meeting, a change from the other prim and proper ladies of court.

Prince Sendyn Eccles was far older than Samantha, but no less kind.  From the south, he had a small kingdom and was a cousin of someone or other on Will’s side.  He had talked literature and art with Alan for many an hour at a previous assembly, and it had been a pleasant experience.

The king from the north he did not know.

“My dear,” Will said, taking Alan’s hand and leading him over to the chair where the old man sat, “Let me introduce my great uncle, the Undertaker.”

Alan’s first thought was that ‘Undertaker’ was a silly title.  His second thought was about how much silver gray hair the old king had spilling out from under his black crown.  His third thought put into his head the idea that there must be a very good reason why this man was called the ‘Undertaker’ and he became frightened.  By Will’s tone and grip on his hand, he could tell his husband felt no more comfortable or welcoming in the presence of this strange king.

The Undertaker rose when Alan approached, and took the queen’s hand.  “The pleasure is all mine,” he said in a high scratchy cackle.  His lips brushed Alan’s hand, and he couldn’t help but shudder at the touch.

“My king,” he said.  “Welcome to our home.”

The Undertaker cackled, a disturbing sound.  “Your home… yes…”

“Do not get into this now,” Will muttered, drawing Alan back, as if he wanted to keep his queen away from the old king.  Looking to the prince and princess, he nodded. “And welcome to you two as well.  The ball is tonight, so I would suggest preparing for it.”

“I’ll see you later, Alan!” Samantha said, squeezing Alan’s free hand.  “It will be such fun!”

“I would enjoy another talk,” Eccles said, bowing. “It was quite an inspiring conversation the last time.”

“For me as well,” Alan said with a smile.  Both royals left and Will glanced at the old king.  “Are you going to prepare for the festivities, sire?”

The Undertaker cackled, motioning to his black garb. “I am already prepared, my boy.”

Will let out a breath of irritation, but Alan caught a note of distrust too, and realized the younger king had not released his hand, as if he wanted to make sure his queen was safe.  A feeling almost like affection tingled in his chest and he stepped toward the door.

“Come, Will, let us too get ready for tonight.”

Will nodded, casting one last glance at the Undertaker before letting Alan lead him from the room.  Outside, he turned to Eric.  “You do not stray far from Alan, do you hear?”

“You trust him that little, your highness?” Eric asked, and Will looked darkly at the closed door.

“I do not trust him at all.”

With those words, he let go of Alan’s hand and hurried off down the hall.  Alan watched him go, then faced Eric.

“Why is Will so fearful of the… of the old king?” He could not bring himself to say the morbid title of Undertaker.

“The king is not the family sort,” Eric replied as they walked toward Alan’s chambers.  “Years ago he tried to take King Will’s throne by force.  He failed, and has not attempted anything since, but to say there is bitterness between them is an understatement.”

“No wonder Will was so cold to him,” Alan mused, and shivered again at the thought of the Undertaker’s skin on his.  Rubbing his hand absentmindedly, he asked, “You don’t think he will be trouble tonight?”

Eric stopped in front of Alan’s door and turned, smiling at the queen. “Don’t worry, your highness.  Should any danger befall you, I am here.”

Alan looked up at the knight, whose wavy blond hair was falling past his face, his brown eyes bright and warm.  He almost lifted his hand, wanting to run his fingers through Eric’s locks, but he drew back, leaning against the door.

“Thank you, Sir Knight,” he answered, and quickly entered the room, shutting the door.  Going to the bed, he sat down, twisting his hands together.

“Shame, Alan,” he whispered. “You are a married man!  And to the king!  What would they think?”  Rising, he went to the window and stepped onto the small balcony.  “But… what about what I feel?”  Looking back toward the door, he shook his head.  “No.  Stop it.  You have a duty… And right now it is to prepare for the ball.”

Going to his closet, he looked inside and reached for the deep red gown Will had given him.  His fingers had hardly touched the fabric when he paused and looked at the only light colored gown in the wardrobe.  Pastel lavender, it was just as decorated and elaborate as the others, but the color was not so dark.  Shifting the other outfits aside, Alan took the lavender dress from its place.

He disliked having servants help him dress, but he soon found him in the sticky situation of being unable to do up the clasps on the back of the dress.  With little choice, he went to the door.

“Eric,” he said, “Please find a servant to do up my dress.”

“Will told me not to leave you,” Eric replied, and Alan bit his lip.

“But I cannot reach the buttons…”

“Allow me,” Eric said, dipping his head, and Alan’s heart fluttered.  It was very inappropriate, he knew, but he stepped back, letting Eric enter the room and close the door.  It was… odd to have the knight in his bedroom, and suddenly the large area seemed very small.

“If I may?” Eric asked, and Alan remembered why this man was here and turned around.  He was rather glad to turn away from the knight, sure his face would give away what he was feeling inside.  He felt Eric’s hands working the buttons, slowly moving up his back.

“I’ve never seen this dress,” Eric said, “Is it new?”

“No,” Alan replied, trying not to shiver as Eric’s fingers reached the clasps in the center of his back, “I’ve just never worn it.”

“The lavender is beautiful on you, my queen.”

“You told me red was not my color,” Alan replied and Eric chuckled.

“So I did.  There.  That’s the last one.”

Alan was about to turn, to say that they should head downstairs, when Eric’s hands were suddenly on his waist and he was trapped.

“You’re so thin, if I may be so bold to say,” the knight said, his voice softer. “Is your highness eating alright?”

Alan could barely breathe, let alone speak, and a soft moan escaped his lips as Eric’s hands moved around his waist, up his ribcage, down to his hips.  Tipping his head back so it rested on Eric’s chest, his heart raced faster.  He knew he should stop himself, but he didn’t want too.  What he and Will had was not affection, not love.  But this was something like that.  This connection he and Eric had created over the weeks was deeper than anything he had known before.

“Eric,” he managed, “I’m his queen…”

“And you’re my beloved,” Eric replied and Alan gasped, eyelashes fluttering as the knight pulled him so their bodies were even closer.  He couldn’t deny this…

Then came the knock on the door.  Eric’s hands left Alan in a flash and the queen called out, “I am dressing!”

“Sir Eric’s not at his post!” He heard the words in Ronald’s voice, his chipper tone unusually worried.  “Are you alright?”

Alan quickly composed himself and went to the door opening it.  “He is here,” he assured the squire.  “I was having trouble with my buttons and there wasn’t a servant to be found.”

“Oh thank goodness,” Ronald said, relieved.  “I was sure that something bad had happened to you!”

Alan smiled. “That’s sweet of you.  We’re going down to dinner now.”

Ronald bowed and allowed Alan to walk before him, falling into place at Eric’s shoulder.  The trio soon came across other making their way to the large dining room, and the nobles and royalty parted for their host queen, allowing him to arrive at the doors first.  The guards opened the doors and Alan walked through, Ronald staying behind, but Eric keeping close.

Alan moved to the head of the table where Will stood, and when he reached him, the king bowed, taking Alan’s hand and kissing it.

“That is a fine dress,” he said, and Alan felt a deep rush of shame.  He didn’t look at Eric as he sat in the chair to the left of his husband, but could feel the knight’s presence standing behind him.

 _‘Oh no,’_ he thought, clasping his hands under the table, _‘What have I done?’_

“Are you feeling alright,” Will said, frowning, and Alan jumped.

“O-oh, yes,” he stuttered, “I am perfectly fine, my king.”

Will nodded, his brow smoothing.  “Chin up, then.  You are the queen.”

Alan took a deep breath as the guards opened the doors and the guests spilled in, taking their seats and digging into the lavish meal the servants delivered to the table on silver platters.  Will immediately got into conversation and Alan picked at his food as everyone else ate heartily.

Shelia, dressed in ribbons and bells, moved around the table, entertaining those who wished it and soon came to Alan.

“Your highness,” she said, and set a frog on his chair.  “Can I make you laugh?”

“Not now, Shelia, thank you,” Alan replied, returning the amphibian.  The jester took it and a small frown creased her face.

“You alright, your highness?  You haven’t eaten a bite.”

Will looked over, brow furrowing.  “The queen does not require you, jester,” he said, and glanced at Eric, who took a small step forward.  Shelia drew back.

“Forgive me, sire,” she said, bowing her way to another part of the table.  Will went back to his conversation and Alan looked down at his plate.  He hadn’t touched a morsel of the delicacies that had been placed before him…

“You’re so thin, if I may be so bold to say.  Is your highness eating alright?”

Eric’s voice echoed in his head, the ghost of his strong hands lingering on his waist.  Alan drew in a sharp breath, dropping his fork to the plate.  He suddenly felt someone’s gaze and looked up across the table, his brown eyes meeting the black ones of the Undertaker.  The old king had a smile on his face, a terrifying grin, and Alan’s heart fluttered.

_‘Does he know?  How could he?’_

The Undertaker glanced at Eric, and back to Alan, still smiling.  He lifted a finger and pressed it to his lips, then turned back to the steak on his plate, tearing apart the flesh with a sharp serrated knife.

 _‘We are dead if he speaks,’_ Alan thought.  _‘The trouble Eric would be in!  If he were caught…’_

Alan turned his head, looking back at the knight, who met his gaze and frowned slightly, silently questioning the sudden fear he must have read in his queen’s eyes.  Removing the napkin from his lap, Alan stood, and Will glanced up.

“Where are you going?”

“I will be back,” Alan replied, unsure if he actually would be.  “I have to… powder my nose.”

Will nodded, then motioned to Eric, who bowed and followed Alan out of the dining room.  Once in the hall, Alan collapsed against the wall, hands over his face.

“What are we to do?”

“What is the matter?” Eric asked, and Alan felt his hands on his arms.  “What happened to make you so frightened?”

“You are Will’s most trusted man…” Alan lowered his hands and looked up into Eric’s face.  “Should they find out how we feel about each other…  Surely you will be killed.”

“They won’t find out,” Eric said, his grip on Alan tightening. “Will does not love you like I do!  You did not even agree to marry him to begin with! There is nothing wrong with what we are doing!”

“He knows, Eric,” Alan said, glancing toward the dining room doors.  “The old king… I know he knows.”

At that, Eric drew back, his expression troubled. “You’re sure?”

“Positive,” Alan groaned.  “If he tells Will…”

“He has not yet,” Eric said firmly.  “And so we shall not act suspicious in any way.  He may never tell Will at all.”

“And if he does…” Alan shook his head. “I do not know what I would do without you, Eric…”

“My queen,” the knight said, his voice growing gentle, “I told you I was yours, wholly and forever.  I will not go back on that promise.”  Eric touched Alan’s chin, tilting his head up, and their lips met.

 _‘Not in the hall!’_ Alan thought, but the kiss was short and sweet and Eric drew back far too soon.


	3. Chapter 3

“Alan! Alan!”

The queen looked over to see Thom hurrying towards them, and feared the young priest may have seen the kiss, but Thom seemed far too distracted to have noticed anything.

“Is everything alright?” Alan asked as he approached them. “You seem distressed.”

“I am!” Thom said.  “The Undertaker wants me to say a prayer sometime during breakfast tomorrow.”

“A prayer?” Eric asked, frowning.  “What sort of prayer.”

“One of good health and prosperity for all,” Thom answered and Alan looked at Eric.

“That does not sound like him…”

Eric shook his head.  “No, but he is the king.  His wishes must be obeyed.”

“I have never done anything like this before,” Thom said, his brown skin paling.  “In front of people… Royalty!”

Alan put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “You will do wonderfully, Thom!  Think of all the times you would read verses to me.  You have a fine strong voice.”

“You are one person,” Thom said, and then bowed. “But I will do my best! I will make you proud!”

Alan smiled and kissed the top of the priest’s head.  “I know you will be wonderful.”

“I’d better start practicing,” Thom said, holding up a book he had in his hand.  “Thank you, your majesty.”

Alan nodded back and the priest hurried off down the corridor.  “The king wants a prayer of goodwill…”

“Unnerving, but there is nothing we can do,” Eric replied. “Did you not say you would soon be back at the dining table?”

He had hardly spoken he words when the doors opened and guests began spilling out.

“To the ballroom!” one cheered, and a flurry of excitement went through the rest of the group.  Will came through last and stopped by Alan.

“Walk with me,” he said, and Alan slipped his arm into the king’s.  They followed the procession to the door of the ballroom, where the nobles and royalty parted for them so their hosts may enter the room first.

Alan gasped when they walked into the room.  It was beyond beautiful, guided gold and shining with candles on the walls and in the crystal chandelier.  It fairly glowed and the orchestra began to play as Will faced Alan.

“We must dance first,” he said, and took Alan in his arms.

As they moved across the ballroom, Alan couldn’t understand how Will did not see the love that bonded him and Eric.  It was as clear as day to Alan…

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.  He couldn’t help the words from coming out of his mouth.  He was truly sorry, sorry that they couldn’t have had the type of love he now felt for Eric.

“Just follow my lead if you forget the steps,” Will replied. “Do not panic.”

Alan nodded, biting his lip to stem his emotions.  Will did not know, and he couldn’t ever learn… So Alan allowed the king to twirl him around the dancefloor while the song played for an eternity.

When it finally ended, they bowed to their guests, who clapped before moving out onto the floor to dance themselves in a flurry of color and cloth.

“Thank you for the dance,” Will said, kissing Alan’s hand before vanishing into the crowd.  Alan backed away to the wall where Eric waited and leaned against it with a sigh.  Eric handed him a glass of champagne, which he sipped, and they quietly watched the party together.

A short time later, the doors flew open, startling almost everyone in the room.  All turned to look as a man dressed in red hurried in.

“The Queen of the Crimson Kingdom!” the man shouted, “The Red Dragon of the North, her majesty Grell Sutcliff!”

“Ah, fashionably late, as usual,” said Will, who had joined Alan a short moment ago.  “She always does like to put on a show.”

“She’s quite… extreme,” Samantha noted, raising her eyebrows.

Indeed this queen was, for she soared into the room wearing a dress that seemed as big as a boat, all varying shades of red, her long crimson hair done up in a spectacular array.  She moved directly to Will, parting guests with her enormous skirt.

“Will, daaarling!” she said, extending her hand to the king.  “It’s been ages!”

“Too many years,” Will answered, kissing the offered hand, and Alan was surprised to see he didn’t seem to mind the way Grell addressed him.  “You haven’t aged a day.”

Grell laughed, batting her long eyelashes. “Oh, love!  You are such a flirt!”  Then he gaze rested on Alan and her poppy red lips curved into a frown. “This must be your queen.”

“Ah, yes,” Will said.  “This is Alan.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Alan said, bowing.  “Will has told me of you.  He talks very highly of the time you spent together in the south.”

“Oh really?” Grell was smiling again, and winked at Will. “I hope you didn’t tell him everything, Will dear.”

Will was flushing almost as red as Grell’s dress.  “No, I did not.”

“And now you’re married!” Grell sighed. “And just when I was looking for a healthy little kingdom to hook up with!  I suppose I’ll have to find another.”  She looked around and found Samantha still standing near Eric. “You, hon, are you rich?”

“I suppose,” Samantha answered, raising one eyebrow.  “I’m Samantha of the South Kingdom.”

Grell was took out her fan and fluttering it rapidly. “Oh!  Not quite so rich as Will here, but you’ll do! Let’s get married!”

“Eh?” Samantha took a step back. “I-I must decline, your majesty!”

Grell shrugged “Guess I’ll have to just keep looking.  Toodles, all!  I need some champagne.”  She sent a coy look at Will. “Try not to miss me too much, love.”

“Allow me to walk with you,” Will countered the teasing remark, offering his arm.  Grell took it with a laugh.

“Oh, you’re such a flirt! I love that about you!”

They waded off into the crowd, Grell’s dress train and her small entourage of servants following behind, and Samantha let out a breath.

“Well!  She’s… interesting.”

“She’s the richest royal here,” Eric said. “Never married, but has had several lovers, apparently.”

Samantha looked over to where Will and Grell was talking.  “Looks like she had a favorite…” Then the princess covered her mouth. “Oh!  Alan! Do forgive me!”

“It’s alright,” Alan said, his eyes on the two across the room.  Will was speaking, telling Grell something, and the queen was smiling and laughing at his words.  When Grell turned to take a new glass of champagne, Alan saw a tiny smile appear on Will’s face, something he had never seen.

_‘Perhaps I am not the only one who wishes our wedding had not taken place at all…’_

I _IIIIII_ I

As the night wore on, Shelia did her routine in a corner of the ballroom, and slowly a crowd grew around her.  She was the star of the evening, with her jokes and funny faces, making the crowd gasp with laughter.  Grell had pulled Will over and was exclaiming how delightful Shelia was, while the king stood by, not laughing or smiling, but with love in his eyes when he looked to the queen at his side.  Alan’s heart lifted a little to see his husband happy, and wished things were different.

Eric and Samantha had been talking for most of the time, while Alan had enjoyed Eccles company over the evening, and now things were slowing winding down.  Most guests were sitting and talking, or watching Shelia, who was now dancing.  Very few were out on the ballroom floor.

His conversation with Eccles at an end, Alan looked around the room with a sigh.  He was exhausted.  Moving to Eric’s side, he touched the knight’s arm.

“I’m going to my room.”

Eric turned to him.  “I will accompany you.”

Alan glanced over to where the Undertaker was sitting in a chair, watching all the people, and quickly averted his gaze before their eyes could meet by chance.  “Goodnight, Samantha.  It has been a fine evening.”  Over her shoulder, Alan could see Will and Grell in deep conversation.  “Will you please let Will know I have gone to bed?  I don’t want to interrupt him now.”

“Goodnight, my queen,” the princess said with a bow, “I will tell him.”  Then the two hugged before Eric escorted Alan across the ballroom and through the large doors.  They walked in silence through the halls to the queen’s room, and when they reached the door, Alan looked to the knight.

“I suppose you must help me with my buttons again.”

“If you command it,” Eric said, opening the door and allowing Alan to enter first.  The young man walked in and his heart jumped as he felt Eric undoing the clasps.  The knight’s hands were eager, he could tell, and it made him thrilled and nervous at the same time.  When every button was loose, Eric didn’t stop.  He pushed the dress down so it went past Alan’s hips and dropped to the floor, along with the white skirt underneath.  Alan was left with his corset, underwear and stockings.

“Eric…” he said, uncertain, then gasped as the knight scooped him into his arms.  Eric grinned, his eyes locking with Alan’s. 

“Do I act out of conduct, my queen?” he asked, but didn’t leave time for a response, kissing Alan as he carried the man to the bed and lay him down on the blankets.

Alan stared up at Eric, the look on the knight’s face making him shake with anticipation, but he still hesitated.

“What if someone wonders where I am?”

“You’re allowed to retire to your room,” Eric answered, running his hand up Alan’s leg. “Aren’t you?”

“What if someone comes in?”

Eric got off the bed, went to the door, locked it, and returned, tucking the key into his pocket.  “There. They’ll have to knock first.”

“But, Eric…  What if they find out?”

“They won’t,” Eric said, leaning over and kissing Alan’s neck.  “Please, highness, permit me to love you.”

Alan closed his eyes, knowing any dreams he might have of Eric would never compare to the sensations the knight was causing in him right now.  Lifting his lids, he looked up at Eric, and nodded.

“Very well,” he said. “Love me, Sir Knight.”

The words were hardly out of his mouth before Eric was undoing the corset and they both fell into scandal.


	4. Chapter 4

When Alan opened his eyes the next morning, the spot on the bed beside him was empty and cold.  Sitting up, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and the night before came rushing back. He didn’t know whether to feel satisfied or terrified at the memory.

 _‘Where is Eric now?’_ He wondered.

The thought had hardly crossed his mind when there was a knock at the door.  “It’s his highness the king,” came Eric’s voice, and Alan scrambled out of bed, calling,

“Just a moment!”

Hurriedly, he threw on a long shirt and his robe. “Come in,” he said, quickly tying up the robe’s sash, and the door opened.  Over Will’s shoulder, Alan saw Eric standing guard in the hall, and their eyes met, making the queen’s heart jump.  He looked away, afraid he may give something away if he looked at the knight for too long, and then Will closed the door.

“Good morning, my king,” Alan said with a bow.  “A visit is unusual, so early in the morning.”

“I have come to tell you something,” Will answered and, looking up, Alan saw the man looked sorrowful, an uncommon look from him. 

Taking a step forward, Alan asked, “Is everything alright?”

Will looked away, out the window.  “I slept with Grell last night.”

Of anything Will could have said, that was not something Alan would have guessed would have come from the king’s mouth.  He was momentarily at a loss for words, and Will turned back to him.

“I expected you to be upset.”

_‘Upset… Why should I be upset?  Last night I was just as disloyal to you as you were to me…’_

“I am not upset,” he said slowly, “It simply saddens me that we could not have what you and Grell share…”

Will held out his hands and Alan took them, being pulled closer to the king, who looked down at him. “You are a good queen,” he said gently, “A perfect queen.  We will rule well together.”  He then drew Alan to him and the smaller man rested his head on his king’s chest and closed his eyes.  He knew what Will meant.  They would rule together, but never would they be together.  Will desired Grell and she wanted him back, so they would be lovers.  Will had told Alan, not to hurt him, but simply to let him know they would only be a couple in title, not in love.

 _‘Oh, that I could tell you that I have someone too!’_ Alan though desperately, _‘But that would be a disgrace to you.  As king, you may take who you wish, but I am only the queen.  My body is owned by you whether you use it or not, and it cannot belong to anyone else…’_

Finally, Will stepped back and Alan tried not to let his secrets show on his face.

“I will see you at breakfast,” Will said, and left.  When he was gone, Alan sat on the edge of the bed biting his nails until Eric entered.

“He’s sleeping with Grell,” he said, “And I can’t tell him that we…”

Eric pulled Alan’s hand away from his mouth and kneeled in front of him.  “Well, this means he doesn’t want you, and that is better for us, is it not?”

“Yes,” Alan agreed. “But what about the old king? Why has he not told Will?”

Eric’s brow furrowed at that.  “I don’t what his play is, but perhaps he will not tell Will at all.”

Alan’s nerves were still shaky, and Eric seemed to see that, for he gently pulled the queen to his feet and said in a light tone, “Should you not be getting ready for breakfast?  It is the most important meal of the day.”

“I suppose so,” Alan replied with a small smile, and a half an hour later they were walking down to the dining table.

Most of the guests had left the night before so the large table was almost completely bare.  Sam and Eccles had spent the night, as had, much to Alan’s dislike, the old king.  Grell was there too, of course, and the queen glanced at Alan from under long eyelashes.

 _‘I slept with your king last night,’_ her gaze said. _‘He’s mine.’_

 _‘You can have him!’_ Alan thought, sitting down in the chair Eric pulled out for him.  _‘I have a man of my own now.’_

The thought sent butterflies whirling in his stomach and he quickly arranged his napkin on his lap and began to eat.  Conversation mostly revolved around the splendor of the party the night before, a polite, easy topic to speak about.

“I had a splendid time last night!” Grell declared and Alan noticed a tinge of red rise to Will’s pale cheeks.

“As did I, as did I,” said the Undertaker and everyone’s eyes went to him in surprise.  He hadn’t spoken a word all throughout the morning meal, but now he stood from his chair, capturing the attention of the others in the room.  “If I may have the floor, your highness?”

Will didn’t look happy about it, but he nodded. “Of course, sire.”

“I commissioned your young priest to read a prayer of good wishes for us this morning,” the Undertaker said, and Alan looked to see Thom enter through a side door. The young priest’s expression was one of nervousness, but also determination.  He walked with sure steps to stand at the Undertaker’s shoulder.  Alan glanced at Eric and saw the knight’s brow was furrowed, his eyes studying the Undertaker with suspicion.

“How… thoughtful,” Will said, not sounding thankful in the least.  “We will be happy to listen.”

“Go on, my boy,” the Undertaker cackled, gripping Thom’s arm briefly.  “Speak your prayer.”

“Yes, your highness,” Thom replied with a bow.  Lifting his book he opened it to a marked page, swallowed nervously and began.

“Let us be thankful this morning,

For all the beautiful things,

The bird in the sky, the sound of rain, the first call of a dove.

Let us be thankful this morning,

For all the good things,

Food on the table, a shirt on the back, a healthy goat in the shed.

Let us be thankful this morning,

For all the pure things,

A newborn babe’s cry, the touch of a virgin, the-.”

“Such words from a dirty mouth!”

“Eh?” Thom gasped, and all looked to the Undertaker, who had spoken the words to disrupt the poem.  “I’m sorry, sire, did I say it wrong?”

“You spoke the words perfectly,” the Undertaker said, slowing rising from his chair, “But how can such a bastard say such things in so innocent a way? It’s almost blasphemy…”

“Now see here!” Alan said, standing in anger. “There is now reason to speak so rudely to Thom!”

“First name terms?” The Undertaker cackled. “So much more a master than I thought!”

“What?” Alan stammered, confused, and Thom glanced helplessly at the queen.  Will stood, fists clenched.

“State your reason for this foolery!” the king declared. “What is all this?”

“It is scandalous, my dear William!” the Undertaker said, and Will flinched at the use of his name.  “This young man-,” here he grabbed Thom’s arm, “-has been sleeping with your queen!”

There was a shocked silence at that, and then Eccles said, “I cannot believe a word of it.”

“Alan?”

Alan broke from his frozen state and turned to see Will frowning at him.  “What of this accusation?” the king said, his voice hard.  “What have you to say?”

“No!” Alan nearly shouted. “I never did!”  He looked to the Undertaker, a confused panic rising in his chest as his gaze met the old king’s eyes.  “You are misled, your highness!”

“Don’t worry my darling,” the Undertaker said and Alan shivered at the gentle, terrifying tone.  “I know he must have forced you into silence somehow.  Was it a threat of some sort?  You need not worry about him anymore.”

“I didn’t touch the queen!” Thom cried, “I wouldn’t!”  He looked to Will, eyes wide with panic. “Sire-!”

“Oh this is rubbish!” Grell said, throwing down her napkin. “This little twit of a choir boy? I don’t believe it!”

“I know Thom,” Sam said, glaring at the Undertaker. “He is a holy man!  A good man!”

“There is nothing between us!” Alan begged, “Take away your blame!”

“Your highness,” Eric said, his firm voice breaking through the others’ protests, “I can assure you there is no reason to blame Thom for any sort of conduct between him and Queen Alan.  With or without the queen’s consent.”

“Then what, may I ask, is this?”  The Undertaker’s long fingers dipped into the pocket of Thom’s robes and pulling out a small silver ring.  Upon closer inspection, they all saw it to have three small rubies planted in the metal.

“That’s one of my rings! But how…?” Alan couldn’t finish his sentence and Will’s eyes narrowed.

“Guards!” he called, and two men entered the room.  “Take this priest to a cell!”

“I swear I didn’t touch him!” Thom cried as the guards took hold of his arms and began pulling him toward the door. “Alan-!”

“Thom!” Alan said desperately.  He took a step forward, but froze again at a disapproving sound from behind.  He turned to see the Undertaker shaking his head, and swore he had the almost invisible beginnings of a smile on his face.

“Is that how you called out to him at night?” the old king questioned and Alan gritted his teeth.

“Why, you-!”

He didn’t have the chance to finish his sentence, for Will’s hand gripped his arm and he looked to see the king’s blue eyes, cold as ice.  “You will come with me,” Will ordered, pulling him to the door.  Eric began to follow, but in the hall Will held out a hand.

“No, Eric.  Go down and question the priest.  Come to the counsel room when you have finished.”

“Yes, your highness,” Eric replied with a bow.  His eyes met Alan’s for a split second, and the queen read all of the knight’s confusion and panic in that brief moment before he turned away and was gone down a different corridor.

“Will,” Alan said as he was almost dragged down the hall, “He didn’t do anything to me, I swear!  This is a falsehood.  He’s innocent!”

The king didn’t answer, bringing the queen down the hall to a side room.  Opening the door, he roughly yanked Alan inside, making him gasp in pain.

“Will, please, you’re hurting me!”

The king let go of him and Alan staggered back, clutching his arm where dark imprints of Will’s fingers were visible.  “Will-,” he began, but the king didn’t let him finish.

“Did you sleep with him?”

“Of course not!” Alan said and Will clenched his fist and slammed it down on a table, making Alan jump.  He had never seen Will like this, the king was generally quite calm and checked in his emotions, but now…

“Your ring was in his pocket!”

“I don’t know how it got there!”  Alan reached out to touch his shoulder, scared at the tone in Will’s voice.  “It’s not what it looks like!”

Will turned so suddenly Alan jumped back, losing his balance and dropping to the floor.

“Is it not?” Will asked, seizing Alan’s hair, pulling his head to the side and jerking down the collar of his dress.  Alan’s heart jumped with fear.  He knew what Will was looking for and he what he would find.  He could feel Eric’s mouth on his skin again…

“You’re lying,” Will said darkly, thumb pressing hard on the love mark before drawing back.  “You’re lying to me.”

“No…” Alan whispered, and buried his face in his hands, not even knowing what to say.  He flinched as Will’s hands grasped his shoulders, but the king’s touch was gentle now.

“Alan… You can tell me.  If he forced you into anything, you’re safe now.”

“He didn’t sleep with me,” Alan said, tears falling down his cheeks.  He felt Will’s hand under his chin, lifting his head up, and found the king’s face to be astonishingly kind.

“You’re lying,” the king said softly.  “What did he do to keep you quiet, even now?”

Alan didn’t answer.  What could he say?  If Will knew it was Eric who had touched him, instead of Thom, then the knight would be in the priest’s current position.  That was something Alan didn’t want to happen.

Will sighed, and before Alan knew what was happening he was being embraced by his husband.  “I don’t want you to feel scared like this,” the king said, so tenderly it made fresh tears come to Alan’s eyes.  “I don’t want you to be afraid of someone else.”

 _‘All I am afraid of is whoever has done this,’_ Alan thought, closing his eyes and letting the teardrops fall.  _‘I am not afraid of Thom, I am afraid for him…’_

I _IIIIII_ I

Thom was in one of the last cells.  When Eric arrived, he turned to the dungeon master who had led the way.  “Leave us,” the knight said.  “This is a confidential talk.  Ordered by the king.”

The master nodded and walked away down the corridor, vanishing through the far door.  When he was gone, Eric faced Thom, who had stood upon his arrival.

 “Please, Sir Eric,” the young man said, gripping the bars, “I didn’t do anything! I would never-!”

“I believe you,” Eric said and Thom cut himself off, staring at the knight.

“You do?” he asked.

“I know you didn’t sleep with Alan last night or any night before,” Eric said. “One, you are a good man, and his friend.  And secondly…” he glanced over his shoulder, but this area of the dungeon was empty.

“Secondly?” Thom questioned, and Eric looked back to the priest.

“Secondly,” the knight said in a low voice, “I was the one who slept with our queen.”

Thom’s eyes widened at that and he took a step back. “Y-you…?”

“Not in the way you were accused of,” Eric said, speaking quickly.  “With Alan’s consent.”

“But,” Thom lowered his own voice, stepping back up to the bars, “Forgive me for saying, sir, but that’s dangerous!”

“Will has no such feelings for Alan so why shouldn’t I?” Eric asked and Thom bit his lip.

“I know, sir…. But it could result in awful scandal.  Ruin the kingdom…”

“It’s worth the risk,” Eric said fiercely, then Thom’s words sunk in. “Scandal…”

“What is it?” Thom asked, seeing’s Eric’s brow furrow suddenly.  “What is going on?”

“Someone wants this kingdom to fall into scandal,” Eric murmured.  He stepped back from the bars. “Don’t worry, Thom.  We’ll figure this out.  Right now I must go report to the king.”

“Be careful!” Thom said after him as he walked away. “I’ll pray for you, sir!”

I _IIIIII_ I

“Your Highness.”

“Enter,” Will’s voice replied, and Eric opened the door, stepping into the room.  He bowed and then moved to stand before the desk the king sat at.  Will looked tired and worn, an image of weakness Eric had never seen on the man before.  A ripple of guilt went through him.  Yes, he deeply loved this man’s husband, loved him enough to go behind his highness’ back, but that didn’t change the way he felt about the king.  He wished he could tell Will, ease his mind, let him know they were still colleagues and he had no ill will toward the king at all.

“What did you find out from the priest?’ Will asked, tapping a quill absentmindedly on the desk.

“Nothing that would give me reason to suspect him of such a crime,” Eric replied. “It is my belief that he is innocent.”

Will shook his head and rose to his feet, pacing behind the desk, an agitated movement not normal for the king.  “No…Alan is keeping something from me.  I can feel it, and though he tells me there is nothing between him and the priest, there is no other explanation for the marks on his body.”

Guilt and regret washed over Eric had he struggled to keep his emotions in check.  If only he had been more careful, touched Alan more gently last night!  Then there would be no proof of the queen’s infidelity.  He searched for the right words, words that would solve this issue easily, but there was nothing now that could hide the fact Alan had been in bed with someone besides Will.

“What is to be done?” he asked, already knowing the answer but praying the king would not give the one he dreaded hearing.

Will sank back down into his chair, hands folding on the desk.  “The priest will be put to death,” he said.  “That is the law in the occasion of treachery such as this.  Although regrettable, there is nothing else that can be done.”  Taking a blank piece of parchment and quill, the king began to write.  “Eric, we must not let word out of what his crime is.  It would send the kingdom into scandal.  We must proceed with the execution under a false crime.”

Eric refrained from voicing his opinion, for the only way to truly save Thom would be to turn himself in, and he needed to speak with Alan before he dared do that.  So he simply bowed.  “Yes, your highness.  I will begin arrangements at once.”

He moved for the door, but before he could leave, Will’s voice stopped him.

“I hope you will do better in your job now,” the king said, his tone cold.  “Perhaps if you had caught this sooner, Alan would not be so hurt.”

Eric bit his lip, allowing himself to close his eyes as he faced away from his king.  “I am sorry, sire,” he replied softly, though he didn’t apologize for what Will spoke of.  “I should have seen this coming.”

And then he left, his emotions mixed and his heart far more troubled than it had been in a long time.


End file.
